Round her Seraphick Face so fair and young,
Her Sable Hair in careless Dresses hung,
Which added to her beauteous Features, show'd
Like some fair Angel peeping through a Cloud?
Her Breasts, her Hands, and every Charm so bright,
She seem'd a Sun by Day, a Moon by Night;
Her shape so ravishing, that every Part,
Proportion'd was to the nicest Rules of Art:
So awful was her Carriage when she mov'd,
None could behold her, but he fear'd and lov'd,
She danc'd well, sung well, finely plaid the Lute,
Was always witty in her Words, or Mute;
Obliging, not reserv'd, nor yet too free,
But as a Maid divinely bless'd should be;
Not vainly gay, but decent in Attire, }
She seem'd so good, she could no more acquire }
Of Heaven, than what she had, & Man no more desire: }
Fortune, like God and Nature too was kind,
And to these Gifts a copious Sum had joyn'd
Who could the power of such Temptations shun;
What frozen _Synick_ from her Charms could run:
What Cloister'd Monk could see a Face so bright, }
But quit his Beads and follow Beauty's Light, }
And by Its Lustre hope to shun Eternal Night. }
I so bewitch'd, and poyson'd with her Charms,
Believ'd the utmost Heaven was in her Arms,
Methoughts the Goodness, in her Eyes I see,
Spoke her the Off-spring of some Deity.
Now Books and Walks, would no content afford,
She was the only Good to be Ador'd.